


where there is will

by tentaclemonster



Series: 100 Fandoms Challenge [43]
Category: Poison's Kiss - Breeana Shields
Genre: 100 Fandoms Challenge, Canonical Child Abuse, F/F, Gen, Missing Scene, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22416595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tentaclemonster/pseuds/tentaclemonster
Summary: Marinda and Ilya after Gopal breaks Ilya’s arm.
Relationships: Marinda/Ilya (Poison's Kiss)
Series: 100 Fandoms Challenge [43]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1257083
Kudos: 1
Collections: The 100 Multifandom Challenge





	where there is will

**Author's Note:**

> 043/100 for the 100 Fandoms Challenge. Written for prompt #93 – can.

It feels like I’ve spent a life time crying by the time I finally manage to stop. My eyes are wet and itchy and aching, my throat sore, and the skin of my palm as soaked with sweat where I still hold Ilya’s hand interlaced tightly in mine as my face is soaked with tears – but the tears do stop eventually. 

The sobs that I’ve spent the last hour or more trying to stifle finally go down on their own, back to wherever in the body sobs well up from, and all that’s left are sniffles and the aftermath of my outburst.

In the small bed, Ilya’s face is relaxed and composed as if she is in total peace. Her eyes closed, her breathing deep, but even if she doesn’t show it then I can’t imagine that the pain has lessened enough for her to have fallen asleep.

If I didn’t see her arm wrapped in the sling I made for her as evidence, I would have thought my memories of Gopal breaking it were nothing more than a horrible, horrible dream.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” I ask her in a hushed, small voice, although I know she can’t be.

Ilya still puts on a brave face, though. Like always. Her eyes flicker open. She looks at me steadily, like a grown woman much older than her actual age.

“I’ll live,” she says, as though that’s the same thing as being alright. 

We both know it isn’t. 

I bite my lip and I can’t stop my eyes from going to her arm again. To the sari the color of blood wrapped around it. 

“It was brave, standing up to Gopal,” I tell her.

“It wasn’t brave, Marinda,” she sighs and closes her eyes again. “It was stupid.”

“It wasn’t,” I deny, a little offended on Ilya’s own behalf to hear anyone – even herself – calling her stupid. Such a comment is as far from the truth as you can get.

But Ilya insists anyway, “It  _ was _ , Marinda. What was so smart about it? That man will die anyway, no matter what I told Gopal, and Pari will be an orphan and there is nothing any of us can do to change any of that because it’s the Raja’s will and that isn’t for us to question. I’ll be left with a broken arm and I will have accomplished nothing to show for it.”

I frown at that, both because of the bone-deep tiredness that radiates from Ilya’s voice as she says it and the fact that I can’t think of anything to say to argue against it. 

“It was kind, then,” I settle on instead.

“Sometimes I think kindness and stupidity are the same thing,” Ilya admits quietly.

I frown even harder and squeeze Ilya’s hand. “Do you think I’m stupid for staying here with you?”

Ilya peeks her eyes open and watches me from under her lashes. “I think we’re both stupid for staying here at all.”

“Then we can go.”

“We can’t go. We’ve tried running away before and Gopal has always caught us.”

“We  _ can _ ,” I insist. I look surreptitiously around the room and then lower my voice, shuffling closer to Ilya just to be safe, like Gopal might be standing outside of the door listening. “We can figure out a way, Ilya. We just have to come up with a better plan.”

Ilya stares at me for a moment longer and then turns her head to the side, looking away. 

After it becomes clear that she isn’t going to speak, I do, “I thought you said Gopal didn’t control you.”

I’m aware I mean it as a challenge as soon as I say it and I’m disappointed when Ilya doesn’t snap back immediately. I almost crave her anger now. I want to see her showing the same fire she had when she demanded Gopal spare Pari’s father this afternoon, the determined spirit she’s had every time she held me after I’d been bitten by snakes when she whispered to me her own ideas of escape – of how we didn’t deserve this, didn’t have to live like this, how life would surely be better elsewhere because it could hardly be worse.

I’ve almost given up hope of her saying anything else tonight when finally she does.

“Alright, Marinda,” she says quietly, still not looking at me. “Let’s make a plan. If you say we can, then we can. I believe in you.”

_ I believe in you _ . The words warm me more than anything else anyone has ever said to me, more than any of Gopal’s compliments for all the wrong things or Gita’s confusing position in my life as both offerer of comforting words and unacting voyeur to the horrors that I need comfort from.

If Ilya can believe in me, then I can believe in myself too. It can be us – Ilya and I – together against anything and with that, I know we can succeed and get away to some other place, some other life, much better than here.

We can make a plan to escape. One that will actually work this time, so that Ilya will never have to be hurt again and I’ll never have to see her hurt or cause hurt for other little girls like Pari or anyone else. 

We can do it.

I know we can.


End file.
